Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Is he hot?” the customer asked. He was of average height and a little on the skinny side, with pressed pants, suspenders, and a bright pink bowtie.
The cashier, a short redhead, nodded eagerly. “Smokin’. I’m telling you, I’d have dropped to my knees on the spot if we were anywhere else.”
Tate’s spine tensed. He glanced around the quiet store. No one else was around, but they had to know he was there, listening. Were they talking out in the open about this dude giving a guy a blowjob?
Laughing, the customer said, “You’re such a slut.”
“And proud of it.” The cashier fired back without an ounce of shame as he waggled his eyebrows at his friend. The banter quickly turned into a groan. “Ugh, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for someone as sexy as him to move in around here? And to think he’s a dancer. All those bendy muscles.” He shivered dramatically. “Yum-my.”
A dancer? Tate’s stomach plummeted. Holy fuck, they were talking about Liam. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was? Talking about dropping to his knees for Liam.
“Listen, bitch, what makes you think you’re gonna be the one to snag him?”
“Um, have you seen how pretty I am?” There he went, batting those stupid-fucking- eyelashes again. “And he’s coming to coffee on Friday.”
Something dark and ugly twisted inside Tate’s gut. His chest tightened, and his hands curled into fists. He glared daggers at the oblivious cashier.
This guy had a date with Liam?
The earth dropped from beneath his feet.
Over my dead body.
There was only one man who got to suck Liam’s incredible cock, and that was Tate.
His nostrils flared. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. If these two didn’t stop talking about Liam like they had a claim to him, they would regret it.
With each continued word out of their mouths, Tate grew increasingly tense. He felt like a wild animal backed into a corner—coiled and poised to attack.
“Fuck it.” He slammed the bottle of wine onto the conveyor belt, then turned and stormed toward the exit.
“Hey! Mr.! Did you want that?” The cashier yelled after him, but Tate couldn’t fucking turn back. If he did, he’d likely wrap his hands around the skinny fucker’s throat and squeeze until his eyes popped out.
Without thought or a plan, he got into his car and just fucking drove without music, air-conditioning, or awareness of his surroundings.
Fifteen minutes later, he whipped his car into the lot in front of the dance studio and screeched to a stop between two parking spots. Sweat dripped down his face as he shoved out of the car and stomped into the building.
“Luxe!” he shouted.
For fuck’s sake, he sounded like a madman. But he didn’t give a single shit. There was only room for one thought alongside the anger in his head.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
“Lu—”
“Tate?” Liam appeared at the open back door. He wore an I-Heart-NY T-shirt and shorts with streaks of blue paint on the fabric and held a dripping blue paintbrush. “You scared the crap outta me. Oh my God, what’s wrong?” His eyes were wide and wary. “You look… did something happen?”
Without answering, Tate thundered across the lobby and down the hall to the exit at the end. Liam backed up from his aggressive approach, stepping outside. When he reached the object of his obsession, Tate grabbed Liam’s shoulders and turned him so his back hit the bricks next to the door.
The paintbrush clattered to the asphalt as Liam gasped and sputtered. “What the hell, Tate?”
Liam looked stunned and annoyed but not afraid as Tate lightly wrapped one hand around his throat, anchoring him in place. He pressed his hips forward in case Liam tried to kick to get away.
Oh, fuck, was Liam hard?
The firmness against his dick had him reacting in kind.
“You’re going on a fucking date?” The words rumbled from deep in his gut.
Liam’s eyes flared even wider. “What? A date? What the fuck? No.” He shook his head so fast his hair whooshed back and forth on his forehead.
Tate tightened his hand, and the way Liam’s pupils dilated made him fully fucking erect. “Don’t fucking lie to me!”
“I’m not! Christ, Tate, you’re all I can fucking think about. You’re on my mind all freaking day. You feel this?” He thrust his hips forward, drawing a tortured groan from Tate as their cocks brushed against each other behind their pants. “You’re losing your shit on me, and I still want you. Right fucking now!”
Tate breathed through his nose, struggling to quell his anger. He’d heard what he heard at the grocery store. There’s no way they were talking about another sexy male gay dancer in Swan.
“The grocery clerk,” he said with a growl.
“Jonah?” Liam barked out a harsh laugh. “That’s what this is about?” He blew out a breath. “Tate, I’m not interested in Jonah at all. He’s not even my type. But even if he was exactly who I usually went for, you are the only one I want. I’m addicted to you,” he said as he placed his hands on Tate’s chest.